The Corruptions of A Supernatural World
by Corrupted Desires
Summary: A collection of primarily "What If" style one-shots based on the Supernatural series. Current: "I will destroy you." Spoilers for all episodes. Dark.
1. The Profound Bond

**The Corruptions of a Supernatural World**

The Corruptions of a Supernatural World is essentially just a collection of one-shot fanfics written by me, Corrupted Desires, and based in some way on the television show _**Supernatural**_. Each one-shot will have its own title, summary, warnings, spoiler alerts and other information at the beginning of each chapter. Because of the contents of some of the one-shots, the entire collection is being rated M for safety reasons. Oh yeah… I'm also allergic to betas, so don't expect anything too grand from my writing. Thank you and enjoy the collection! –Corrupted Desires

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>I don't own anything Supernatural. I also most likely won't bother writing a disclaimer in any other chapter, so this applies to all one-shots within this collection.

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> What if Castiel did mention the profound bond?

**Spoilers:** up to and including 4x10

**Warnings:** Mentions of Het, Mentions of Slash (kind of/not really), Mentions of Interspecies Bonding (angel/human), Maybe 2 bad words, Character Death, Non-Con…

**Pairings:** Anna/Dean, Castiel/Dean

**Summary:** Anna has overstepped her bounds… And Castiel is pissed.

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><p><em><strong>Dean, I know…<strong>_

Those words seared into Dean's brain in a way that made his body want to recoil as if exposed to acidic bile. He thought he was going to puke… "Anna, I don't w-want to, uh…"

_**About you…**_

"I don't want to…"

_**What you did in Hell…**_

His stomach churned, his body rebelling while his mind flashed to images he tried to keep buried. "I can't talk about that."

_**I know…**_

As his brain and body was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Anna knew… That she had heard on Angel-Radio… That the angels were talking about his time in Hell… She was still talking, and he had no clue what she had said. And then suddenly her lips were on his and she tasted like ash, and blood, and gore, and everything his memories of the pit were telling him, memories she had brought to the surface, was flooding into his mouth as he screamed on the rack, as he tore his own blade into other souls, as his soul turned black and withered…

Dean pulled back, confused. "What was that for?"

And then Anna offered something else, a life preserver in the sea of red staining his memories, something to do other than talk about Hell… And he jumped on it, because he couldn't talk about Hell and he'd do anything to not have to speak about it.

It was wrong. It didn't feel right, so it could only have been wrong. But Dean's mind was telling him that if he didn't do this, then she'd try to get him to talk about Hell. And he couldn't do that, so he had to do this… And he saw her pause, saw her look at his shoulder, where the handprint was scarring his flesh, the skin still raised in blisters. And his stomach churned anew with how wrong it felt, how wrong this was…

He didn't want this.

The moment her hand touched the burn on his shoulder, Dean felt his soul lurch in his body. Before Hell he hadn't been so aware of his soul, but ever since his return he knew it was there, he could feel it. And now his soul was cringing away from a place where it had once curled against, leaning on the mark as if comforted by the scar. His soul didn't want Anna touching that spot…

Dean furrowed his brows and he gave Anna a confused look as his soul cried out and his intestines twisted with the sudden, intense urge to vomit. She returned his look, not seeing the turmoil in his face and in his eyes. Instead she leaned forward to kiss him and, for a moment, Dean was positive he was going to be sick right on her face. And then, suddenly, blessedly, she was gone!

It took a moment for Dean's brain to register the fact that Anna really was gone and that, not only was she gone, but that she had screamed as she was suddenly jerked off of his body and completely out of the Impala. He scrambled up, moving to the car door in time to see a familiar trench-coated figure stalking toward where a half-naked Anna was sprawled. Anna gave a pained groan, attempting to pick herself up off the ground some thirty feet away from the car.

Brain switching tracks, Dean hastened to pull on his boxers. He nearly fell over himself getting out of the car and then almost tripped over one of his own boots that had fallen out of the car when the door had been opened. "Cas!"

His shout went ignored. Castiel continued to stalk toward Anna who had finally gotten to her feet and was backing away from the angel with a look that was… He couldn't process what Anna's face was trying to convey, but it didn't seem like she was afraid.

If he had to say what she looked like right now, he'd say she was… Smug.

"Cas! You can't do this!" He finally reached the angel, gripping Castiel's arm and trying to prevent him from getting any closer to Anna. "Its wrong! You can't kill her just because she remembers being an angel, because she's on Angel-Radio!"

Castiel paused, turning a look toward Dean that had Dean releasing his arm with a gasp. The trench-coated angel's face was so filled with fury and hate that he looked far more demonic than any angel had a right to look. And, though he was surprised by the look, Dean was somehow certain that nothing in that particular expression was directed at him!

He soldiered on. "You can't kill her just because Heaven tells you to!" From the corner of his eye he saw Anna trying to edge away from where Castiel and he were standing. Hoping to distract the enraged angel, Dean continued. "It isn't right and you know it, Cas!"

"This isn't about Heaven's order, Dean."

Holy Hell! Castiel had growled that out so deeply that Dean felt his soul shudder in time to the vibration of Castiel's voice, just barely constrained to the vocal abilities of his vessel. It actually took a moment, and Castiel's eyes leaving him to pin Anna in place again, for the words to register.

"What do you mean this isn't about Heaven's order?" Dean's tone was incredulous. "If you're not here to kill her because Heaven said so, why are you attacking her?"

"Why don't you ask Anna?" Castiel gritted out, moving a hand to hold the frail seeming angel-turned-human in place. "Anna, do you care to share with Dean why I'm here? You are fully aware of the reason."

Dean, unable to help himself, turned to look at Anna. She was still mostly unclothed, wearing just her bra, and the sight of her pale, thin body caused his soul to cringe again, turning his stomach in revolt. Once he was certain he wasn't going to hurl, he spoke. "Anna?"

Despite the angel glaring death at her and the human's confused inquiry, Anna did not answer Dean. She didn't even try to cover herself from their eyes, instead standing there defiantly. Her face was a mask of smug superiority that she kept fixed on Castiel before speaking venomously at the angel. "I did it because I could, you pathetic excuse for a warrior."

Shocked at not only her tone but also her words, Dean's jaw dropped.

Castiel's jaw tensed before he strode purposefully over to the redhead and backhanded her violently, knocking her back down to the ground. The sound of her jawbone cracking from the force of the blow was muffled only by her cry of pain, a cry that was quickly twisted into an insane sounding laugh that drowned out Dean's horrified shout of "Cas!"

Spitting out blood, Anna turned a hateful look toward Castiel. "What's the matter, _brother?_ Are you upset because I touched your mate when you're too much of a coward to claim him yourself?"

Dean's brain short-circuited in less than point-two seconds. His mind stuck on one word, repeating it over and over… Mate… Mate… Mate…

_Castiel's_ MATE!

"What the Hell!" He reengaged, just in time to see Castiel's retaliation for Anna's venom-filled words.

The angel had Anna by her throat, holding her above the ground, hand clenched so tightly around her throat that his knuckles were as white as her skin. She was clawing at his arm, shredding the sleeve of his trench coat, and trying to gasp for breath in his iron grip. Her feet lashed out, toes breaking against the steel solidity of his immovable legs. A flash of lightning showed the shadows of wings spread aggressively behind Castiel as the sharp crack of thunder pierced the air. And then Castiel spoke, his voice firm and carrying the tone of one commanding all of Heaven, Earth and Hell to hear and obey.

"I, Castiel, Warrior of God, do hereby bring judgment upon the being currently known as Anna Milton by Rite of Celestial Bond for her transgressions against my bonded."

Dean could only watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as Castiel appeared to be strangling the life out of Anna right in front of him. He was frozen in place as she continued to somehow draw enough breath to continue fighting the angel's grip. He was vaguely aware of other beings appearing in the area, standing in stoic observation, apparently drawn by Castiel's declaration, and witnessing as the trench-coated angel listed Anna's transgressions…

"Anna Milton, for the transgression of intentional emotional subterfuge against a bonded human for the purpose of your own carnal pleasure, I condemn you to death." Anna's body lurched as a blinding white beam lashed out from Castiel and wrapped around her torso.

"For the transgression of causing a human soul to cower from your corrupted touch, forcing it to flee from what it saw as a sanctuary, I condemn you to eternity without the comfort of another soul." Another lash of white joined that around Anna's twisting, struggling form.

"For the transgression of refusing to acknowledge that you were causing a human soul pain and your refusal to cease your actions against that human, I condemn you to eternity within the pits of whichever level of Hell wants you." A third beam lashed around Anna's torso.

"And finally, for the transgression of attempting to force your own essence into an existing Celestial Bond… I condemn you to never again draw comfort in any form from the belief in, faith for or presence of our Father, the Lord our God." A fourth, larger beam of energy moved from Castiel to the writhing Anna, nearly obscuring her in the near-blinding light of the binds placed upon her.

Castiel pulled her closer to him, growling out his final declaration to her. "May someone have pity on you… For you are no longer a being of Heaven."

And with that final sentence, Castiel's gleaming sword materialized in his free hand. He thrust it forth, piercing Anna's flesh and into her heart even as he released his hold on her throat. With a stoic gaze, he watched as her body burst into bright red flame. A piercing scream came from her throat as the bands of light tightened around the red flame of her body, suspended on the silvery angel sword…

Then in a final flash of white, she was gone.

The other beings that had arrived to witness Castiel's judgment all took a turn at either bowing to or nodding at the angel. Once their acknowledgement of his condemnation of Anna was complete, they each vanished without so much as a word. Finally, with the last one gone, only Dean and Castiel remained in the field near the Impala.

For a long time Castiel merely stood there. His sword had vanished to wherever it went when he wasn't using it, but other than that, he remained in place. Which was a good thing all told, since Dean was still frozen in place by what he had witnessed. He couldn't think of how he was supposed to react in this situation. _**Fuck…**_

He had _liked_ Anna. But then she had looked, and sounded, so different. And the list of transgressions Castiel had mentioned… Which surely they were true, right? Castiel liked to keep things to himself, but Dean hadn't yet found anything untrue in what Castiel had said. He didn't always like what the angel said, but wasn't that part of things that were true? And the way those other beings… Had they all been angels? Or were they something else? Witnesses? The way they had just stood aside, calmly accepting Castiel's judgment as if he had the right… Right… No, _Rite._ Crap, he hadn't even thought of that yet. Castiel had sounded cosmically serious when proclaiming that he was acting on a Rite… a _Rite of Celestial Bond_ on behalf of _his_ bonded... Dean gulped. He stumbled back a couple of steps, nearly falling, would have fallen if not for Castiel suddenly being in front of him and holding him upright with a steady grip on his shoulders.

His right hand on Dean's mark…

Dean moaned as a cleansing sensation washed over him. He felt his soul pulse with pleasure and stretch out in a body that no longer felt physically ill. He felt his soul crowding toward the mark again, drawing comfort from the contact…

"Dean, are you well?"

Dean choked a laugh at that question, one that was borderline hysterical. He jerked out of Castiel's grip, away from his touch, despite the longing pang in the core of his being. "Well? You have the nerve… Am I **well!** Damn it, Cas! I was trying… **We** were trying to keep her alive!" He didn't notice Castiel's posture stiffening as he spoke. "And then you just… BONDED! What the Hell? How could you just kill her like that, Castiel?"

"I could just kill her like that because she was violating you, Dean." Castiel's eyes had narrowed at Dean's use of his full name.

"Violating? She wasn-"

"She was making you _physically ill_, Dean!" Castiel raised his voice, cutting off the human's protest. "I ignored your soul's discomfort as long as I could, but when she tried to force herself into our bond, I could no longer ignore your soul's cries for help."

Dean paused, trying to process the information in a way his brain could accept. He could not deny that the entire situation with Anna had indeed made him feel sick, but that didn't mean he had wanted her dead… And apparently condemned to Hell! "You condemned her to Hell, Cas! How could you? After everything I…" He couldn't finish the thought aloud.

Castiel's expression hardened before he said, in a rather cold tone, "I let her off easy after what she tried to do. Attempting to force your way into a bond is unforgivable!"

And those words just set Dean off again. "A bond that shouldn't even exist!" He didn't notice Castiel's flinch at that, too caught up in his own ranting. "You say its unforgivable, yet you forced a bond on me, Cas? On me!"

The next thing Dean knew he was held about an inch away from Castiel's face and all he could see were the bright blue eyes of Castiel's vessel. He gasped at the sudden change; aware that Castiel's right hand was back on the mark on his shoulder. The fingers of Castiel's left hand were tangled in Dean's short hair, holding the human's head in place. When Castiel spoke, his voice firm, Dean could do nothing but see the truth in the angel's unwavering gaze.

"I have forced _nothing_ on you. A Celestial Bond can _only_ be initiated by the _less powerful _being within the bond. This is how the energy of the bond can insure that the bond is _not_ forced. You wear the mark of _our_ _profound_ _bond_ because I _accepted_ your soul's desire for me. So do not accuse _me_ of forcing anything!"

After a moment, Dean's trembling voice asked a single question… "Why?"

Castiel's gaze softened, as well as his voice. "It took me forty years to reach you in Hell… Did you really think I could just instantly bring you back out?" He gave his bonded a moment to comprehend what he was suggesting before giving more information. "Though most of the obstacles were gone, the path back out of Hell was not completely cleared. I cradled your soul within my Grace for three years before we made it out. We grew close during that time. After nearly two and a half years your soul called to be closer to mine… I found I could not resist. That is why your soul is comforted by my presence. It likes me…" Castiel's voice was almost vulnerable when he added, "You like me."

During Castiel's rather detail-free telling of their escape from Hell, Dean felt his soul pulse in confirmation, almost singing at being so near to Castiel's Grace. Unable to think of anything else, Dean asked, "If we're bonded, why did you not say anything? Why did you not…" He shifted slightly, feeling uncomfortable. Despite this, he continued. "Why didn't you claim me?"

Briefly pressing his forehead to Dean's, Castiel finally loosened his hold, pulling back to more easily see Dean as he gave the Hunter a faint smile. "Because Dean. Your soul is ready, but you are not."

Dean felt a ridiculous amount of relief at the decidedly simple answer. Something bothered him though, so he brought it up. "But you were going to let me have sex with Anna… You said you only interfered when she messed with the bond."

The angel sighed, looking upset at the reminder. "I did not interfere sooner because on some level you did want it, Dean. You just didn't want it now and you definitely didn't want it with Anna. Had it been someone you wanted and your body and soul had not objected or been infringed upon, I would not have interfered."

Dean inhaled sharply, offended. "I'm not a cheater, Castiel!" He didn't realize how wonderfully bipolar he was being about the situation.

"I did not say you were, Dean." Castiel remained unruffled by Dean's ire. "But you are a physical being. And that is something I cannot give you."

"You… Can't?"

Castiel gave Dean a stern look. "Of course not, Dean. I do not possess a physical body and I would not abuse the trust of my vessel to use his body in such a way."

Chagrined, Dean gave Castiel a sheepish look. "Oh… Right." He felt an insane bit of relieved understanding at the difference between angelic vessel and demonic host just then. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be fair to him."

There was a long moment of silence between the two before Dean once again broke it. "Cas? How…" He faltered.

"Yes, Dean?" The angel prompted.

"How will I know when I'm ready?"

Castiel tilted his head slightly, lips quirking into a fond smile. "You'll know, Dean… When I no longer require a vessel for us to be together."

-Fin-

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Specifically for this, I happened to watch the scene that spawned this story again right before it, so if some of the initial dialog is familiar, that's why, its directly from episode 4x10. I didn't like what I saw when watching that, and this fic was the result. I hope you enjoyed the first installment of "The Corruptions of a Supernatural World." I'm not sure when the next installment will be posted and, even if I made a guess, I'd most likely miss it because I suck at keeping update dates. Please review. Squee-tastic praises, constructive criticisms, curious inquiries, and flaming rants are always welcome!


	2. The Belgian Mistake

**What If: **"What if the Belgians made the mistake instead of the French?"

**Title:** The Belgian Mistake

**Author:** Corrupted Desires

**Rating:** PG-13

**Word Count:** 1705

**Spoilers:** Season 6 up to "The French Mistake"

**Warnings:** Slash, evil staring? I just don't know…

**Notes:** Yeah, sometimes even I don't know where something comes from. But I blame staying up all night reading Whippoorwill by Blynnk… Which I guess means I also blame lifelesslyndsey, since she's the one that linked it to me. The country for this 'Mistake' was chosen at semi-random. *cough*Thanks Shirley007.*cough* But really, this fic is just because _obviously_ the 'French' couldn't even get a mistake correct! *giggles* No actual insult to the French intended there. I'm part French myself! Oh yeah… Character thoughts are in italics!

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><p><strong>Third Person POV…<strong>

To anyone else, it would seem as if they were looking at life-sized pictures of themselves. There wasn't any other explanation that fit except mirrors. But with mirrors, everything would have been identical. In this case, there were minor differences. Differences such as one 'Sam' wore a wedding ring and had more facial hair. Another change was the fact that one 'Dean' wore glasses and a fitted turtleneck with designer jeans. And the biggest change of all was the fact that one 'Castiel' had a cell phone glued to one hand and was wearing the most bizarre sweater over a t-shirt…

Then there were the quick declarations of identification, so they at least knew who each claimed to be. And now they were all just staring at each other.

That was all… Standing in lines of three, with the 'Deans' in the middle of both lines, they just stared.

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><p><strong>Sam's POV…<strong>

_Is that what my hair looks like? Maybe I should get a haircut… Oh man, Dean will laugh his ass off if he finds out I thought that._ He gave his doppelganger a pissy look, which was mirrored at him a split second later. _Jesus Christ now I see why Dean gets annoyed when I do that… Dear God, please don't let me ever forget to shave again. Thanks, Sam._

Sam narrowed his eyes, the doppelganger again mimicking the gesture. It seemed that no matter what he did, this 'Jared' person insisted on copying him. He let his gaze flick down to Jared's wedding ring.

_I wonder who it was he married? If everyone we've met is an actor in this world… Did he marry a costar from our 'show?'_ His eyes narrowed further in contemplation, giving a new pissy look when that too was copied and he crossed his arms… Which didn't help at all since Jared just mimicked those too. _I sure as hell hope he married Sarah if it was a costar. She was hot. Wait, does that mean the woman that played Ruby as a blonde is still alive here? Maybe I can get a hook up before we go… _He paused. _If that fucker doesn't stop copying me…_

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><p><strong>Jared's POV…<strong>

_This guy is a friggin' riot!_ He continued to parrot every 'bitch face' the guy claiming to be Sam threw at him, even his gestures and posture. _If he really is Sam, I'm getting some good material here for work… Hey! Is that what the writer's comically refer to as 'Bitch Face #12?'_

It was so tempting to do his own gestures for once, cause he really wanted to study this 'Sam' clown… But trying to perfectly echo the variations on one expression the guy could twist his face into was fascinating in its own right.

_I wonder where Gen is? She'd totally love this… I wonder if she could get him to pose for some publicity shots with me?_ His train of thought broke off when Sam's bitch look managed to upgrade about ten levels. _Oh wow! He has __**got**__ to give me tips on how he does that! I didn't realize my face was so versatile in one expression!_

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><p><strong>Dean's POV…<strong>

_I swear to God… Just give me a reason you prissy assed, face stealing son of a bitch…_ Dean's hand kept twitching toward the gun in the back of his jeans while he stared hate at what looked like a soap opera fag in front of him. _Is… Is he wearing make up? Fuck… He's making me look like a painted whore!_

Dean almost drew his gun on the one called Jensen just for that fact alone. Certainly it could be a viable excuse to give the cops. 'Why no officer, I just didn't want to come across as a transvestite prostitute to the public…' Yes, certainly something along those lines would get him let off the hook.

He saw Jensen's eyes start to move away from him toward Castiel, the other 'him' giving a slightly confused look before suddenly turning back to regard Dean with something rather like awe. _What the hell are you doing you fucking bastard?_ Dean didn't even realize that his hand was under his jacket now, his fingers slowly curling around the pearl handle of his second baby. _You don't get to look at him…_

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><p><strong>Jensen's POV…<strong>

_Does my face look that constipated when I'm mad? Dear merciful Heaven. I need to start getting facials more often or this job is going to give me lines…_ Jensen couldn't help but notice the way Dean's fingers kept twitching as if he were going for a gun. And after having wore the character attire often enough, he knew that chances of Dean, if it really was Dean, going for an actual gun were pretty high. _I think I'll just stay here. I'm a nice guy, honest. I'm innocent. Not doing anything. Read my mind… You don't want to shoot me._

This, inappropriately timing enough, had Jensen mentally debate the merits of trying to pull a Star Wars line on Dean. Something along the lines of 'These aren't the actors you're looking for.' He didn't know what that would do to the 'real' Dean though, so he shifted his focus to his peripheral vision. Jared and 'Sam' seemed to be exchanging bitch face tips while Misha and 'Castiel' were having some sort of… No blinking contest?

_The Heck… Has that Castiel guy blinked even __**once**__ since getting here?_ He turned his attention toward the rather frumpily dressed, stoic version of Misha… Only to freeze when he caught Dean making definite movement toward his gun now. He turned his eyes swiftly back to Dean, his own expression turning awed as he saw the pure righteous fury in the man's eyes as he no doubt wrapped his hand around the handle of a firearm. _All I did was look at Castiel! Oh God… The fangirls are right!_

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><p><strong>Castiel's POV…<strong>

The blue gaze of Castiel's vessel had not left those of the human named Misha since they had taken up these pseudo battle lines. His Heavenly gifts of perception however, were all over the place. He was aware that Sam and Dean were both borderline attacking their doubles in this universe for various reasons. Just as he was aware that Jared was intentionally provoking Sam with some sort of pleasure similar to how he himself tended to enjoy leaving Dean before a conversation had been completed.

What distressed the archangel more than their physical doubles was the fact that he could not sense any trace of Heaven or other angels on this world at all. He did sense the souls all around him, some having moved on while some lingered as mostly harmless spirits. But he didn't even sense gatherings of souls that would indicate a Hell or Heaven. _Fascinating. I wonder what happens with souls in this universe._

Always partially aware of what his physical form was doing when he manifested it, he watched the expression on Misha's face shift from one to another over the course of his thoughts. He contemplated reading the man's mind, but wasn't sure if it was worth it when he didn't know what would happen if he expended too much Grace in this world. _Intriguing. I hadn't considered the possibilities of various expressions within my vessel. Perhaps I should practice._ He tilted his head as he considered the possibilities.

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><p><strong>Misha's POV…<strong>

_Oh thank you, Castiel! They're real… Must tweet the Minions…They're __**real**__!_ Despite his desire to inform his devoted and sometimes poor lost little Minions, Misha's fingers were unable to move. _I wonder if I can get pictures with them… And their autographs!_ He narrowed his eyes at Castiel, Dean, Sam, Jared, Jensen, and back to Castiel. _I wonder how much I could get on auction for a group picture of all six of us toward __**Random Acts**__? Could I even get them to pose for a group picture?_

While considering photograph possibilities, Misha let his eyes roam over Castiel. It didn't take long for his train of thought to move to something new. _Oh My Castiel… Vicky would absolutely love this! It would be a great idea for a sequel to her book._ His calculating look took on a darker, more predatory edge. _He'd have to wear the coat! I __**love**__ that coat. I wonder if I can keep mine from the prop department? Maybe I can get his. Or just him…_

Misha's breathing started to become heavier as his eyes became more glazed from his turn of thought. His hands began a nearly rhythmic clenching. And then… He saw Castiel tilt his head. And something in Misha broke in that moment. His phone dropped from his fingers, clattering on the floor and before anyone knew what he was doing, he had suddenly launched himself at Castiel with a deep, primal snarl, "MINE!"

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><p><strong>Third Person POV…<strong>

Sam, Jared, Dean and Jensen were startled from their own staring contests by the loud clatter of a phone hitting the concrete floor at just the right angle to bust into pieces. They were all turning their heads to the sound just in time to see Misha launch himself at Castiel with a feral roar that sounded like the word 'Mine!'

Four pairs of stunned eyes watched the bizarre actor physically attack an archangel with enough startling ferocity to actually knock the angel back several feet… Right before the same actor actually wrapped his limbs around the archangel like a freaky monkey! And then… Misha's mouth was latched onto Castiel's with a passionate ferocity to put the pizza man to shame and it seemed the act put Castiel in a similar mind as the archangel was actually returning the kiss!

The four unexpected voyeurs could only gape in horror, humor, fascination, and in one almost expected case, arousal, as Castiel's hands moved to cup Misha's ass. It was definitely train wreck quality, since none of them had the power to turn away as the kiss deepened. And then, to make matters worse, Castiel turned slamming Misha's back against the wall so that both of their hands were free to start tugging at each others clothes…

Later no one ever admitted to having whimpered and squirmed in arousal while watching. But then again, no one could deny it either.

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><p><em><strong>-Het Einde-<strong>_


	3. I Will Destroy You

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural._

_**Author's Note:** I had this idea as I was getting out of the shower and had to write it immediately._

_**Warnings:** Spoilers for season 7.  
><em>

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><p>When all was said and done, the end of Dean Winchester was not a pretty sight.<p>

Sometime after salting, burning, and burying his father figure, Dean had been forced to commit his little brother to a mental institution. It wasn't so much that Sam had devolved to the point where he was openly having audible conversations with an invisible Lucifer so much as it was the fact that Dean couldn't handle it when his brother started full on pantomiming being Lucifer's bitch boy. There was just something about watching his brother hump the air while begging Lucifer to be gentle that Dean couldn't deal with anymore.

Alone on the road again, Dean had fallen into heavy drinking while going out and hunting down the strongest evil sons of bitches he could find. He lived in denial, lies, and booze for months before he could no longer hide the signs of jaundice with makeup. But it was not alcohol that brought about Dean's end.

Having lost track of the days, the months, it had been since his life had started going to hell, Dean decided it was time to go visit his baby. Abandoning the junker he had picked up several towns before, Dean walked the rest of the way to the storage where the impala was located. It didn't take him long to gain access to the vehicle and soon he was driving down the highway. He hadn't gone more than ten miles before his phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"Dean!" The voice on the other end was achingly familiar, and painfully loud.

"Sammy? What… How'd you get a pho-"

"Dean! I want you to know I've got this!"

"Got what, Sam?" He could hear orderlies from the mental institution in the background. From what he could hear, Sam was somewhere he shouldn't be.

"I've got him, Dean! Lucifer! Don't worry; I'm keeping him distracted… He won't get out of the pit…" Sam's voice suddenly faded as apparently the orderlies made it to where he was. He could still hear Sam's voice as it faded. "I stopped it Dean! We'll be safe now! Go see Lisa…"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Smith. He's been having a bit of trouble this week… I need to see to your brother now, but I'll contact you once he's settled for an update."

"Yeah…" Dean just barely choked the words out. "Later…"

And then the line was dead.

Dean's eyes were flooded as the phone fell limply from his grasp. It was as he was reaching to wipe the tears away that it happened. A normal enough accident in a moment of inattention as the impala suddenly slammed into a deer.

The wheel jerked out of Dean's grasp as hooves were suddenly in his face, pushing him back into his seat as he hit the brakes. The impala ran into a ditch, the front end wrapping around an old power pole on impact. Dean lost consciousness.

He wasn't sure how long he was out. All Dean knew was that his phone was ringing somewhere and he couldn't feel anything except a wet sensation. He tried to reach for his phone to turn it off, but couldn't with the way he was pinned in place. It took a while, but he managed to open his eyes and see the destruction of the impala's hood, partially blocked with a mess of fur and blood.

Dean fumbled for the handle on the door, but once his fingers were on it, he didn't even have the energy to open it. His eyes drifted closed again and he knew, even as his fingers fell off the door to land with a wet splat in what he just knew was blood that it was over. He was finally going to be out of this life. It was going to be over. Finally.

And that's when he heard it.

A faint rustling sound that he hadn't heard in ages reached Dean's ears. The sound of footsteps approached the mangled impala and his fingers itched to reach for his gun. Instead, he struggled to open his eyes again. When he did, he saw blue.

"Oh no, Dean…" The voice was gruff, deep and familiar. It was also amused. "I'm not quite done destroying you, yet."

He felt a brush against his forehead. His body slowly repaired itself to a level that did not threaten his life. He heard the footsteps retreat. The sound of wings as the presence left. And he knew he would survive this crash. His time was not over yet.

Dean wept.


End file.
